September 03, 2007

I don't know why but there are some people who really get off on touching a pregnant woman's belly. They know no boundaries. They will touch your obviously pregnant belly without any concern for personal space. This happened to me, at work, all the time.

One guy, in particular, felt it was necessary to touch my belly any time he saw me. He would walk right up to me, his arm outstretched, and plant his open hand right on my person. Sometimes the hand landed on the top of my bump, sometimes it landed more towards the bottom of the bump which was way too close to an area that only my husband and gynecologist had any right to wander towards. It didn't matter how many times I pulled back, moved his hand away or outright told him to beat it...his hand was like a pregnant belly magnet.

Management knew he was doing this. Management thought it was funny...they thought it was cute. This was one of their "boy wonders" they had recruited to work in the office. You know, the "boy wonders" that are drop dead gorgeous and/or had played some type of high profile sport in college. The kind that move up through the ranks like a hot knife cutting into butter. Super smooth transitions into jobs that they were not qualified for or had experience in performing.

Those kind.

I still will never understand why someone feels they have the right to walk up to a pregnant woman and touch her belly without permission. I guess there is some twisted psycho-social need to touch something that is growing in another human.

July 03, 2007

It didn't take me long to discover that what I was going through was not unique to me. The comments, the office mimics, the stares and the ostracism were shared by many women. Some who had had babies years before; others who had had them recently. We all started talking. I took more notes.

I had two reactions. The first was utter dismay. I couldn't believe that these supervisors and managers had gotten away with this crap for so long. My second reaction was joy. It wasn't like I was happy that other women had been harassed and discriminated against . I was happy that I wasn't alone. I also discovered that the harassment didn't only come from the male supervisors and managers in the office. It came from some of the women too. Knowing that really hurt.

The offending female manager was a climber. She would have climbed over anyone at any time to get ahead. She was competent but she wasn't smart. She was a "yes woman". "Yes sir." "Whatever you ask sir." Critical thinking skills were not her forte. One of my female colleagues told me a story about something this manager had said to her. The manager had heard a rumor in the office that one of her employees, my colleague, may be pregnant. Without any verification whatsoever she confronted her employee. She didn't ask her if she was pregnant. She didn't take her into an office to discuss her future plans. Instead, with the tact of a drunken sailor, she told the woman "If you are pregnant I will kill you." No discussion was had. No questions were asked or answered. She walked off after she made the statement in front of several people. That statement could qualify in many states as assault. It was certainly something that would never be said to a man.

Soon word spread about how the female manager felt about any of her employees coming up pregnant. Her attitude and words chilled the work place. Her female employees no longer confided in her. They no longer told her anything that they didn't have to. It was sad to watch her try to manage a unit of women who had no respect for her.

I guess the old adage that those who live by the sword die by the sword had some truth to it. She was gone from work for two days. She hadn't called in. One of the secretaries was sent to her home to check on her. She found her body. She had been bludgeoned to death. Her killer was never found.

Such a tragedy. But even more so the tragedy manifested when we all watched the scramble over her dead body for her management position.

March 30, 2007

Aside from the comments that were made about my being pregnant (when would I be leaving? how much time was I going to take off? and, would I be able to keep up with my work load?) I became the object of my bosses misplaced and misguided jokes about the fat pregnant woman.

My boss was a young guy; married with young children. He was completely selfish in his managerial applications. He had a hard time interacting with his female employees and acted like a juvenile delinquent with his male employees. He moved quickly up the management ladder only to be caught with his hand in the kitty years later. Not only was he having an affair with one of his employees, they were stealing money from the company together. How sweet. He lost his job and his wife walked out on him. Karma works. This guy got a kick out of making fun of me. He made fun of the way I waddled. He made fun of the way I carried myself down the aisle with my arms full of files. He would walk down the aisle mimicking me daily. This would be the same clown who would later evaluate my performance and make recommendations about any raise I would get.

But it wasn't just the boss who handled himself poorly. It was also the guy who sat in the cubicle next to me. He would throw paper clips at me while I was sitting working. When the paper clips would fall onto the floor he would watch me bend over to pick up the clips. I didn't know he was a paper clip voyeur at first. Initially it had the appearance of innocent fun; a young, unmarried guy thinking it funny to harass a colleague. But after so many paper clips ended up on the carpet near my feet, it was obvious this had elevated to the level of voyeurism. I became humiliated; to know that someone would think it was funny to throw small objects on the ground just to watch a very pregnant woman bend over to pick them up was something I had never experienced before.

March 28, 2007

Before I get started on my long discussion of pregnancy and how the female condition interacts with work and affects professional careers, I want to shout out a disclaimer. Not all women have children, not all women want children and not all women have gone through pregnancies while working in a cubicle. Despite this, I think we all have some commonalities to share. I encourage it. Whether we are caring for kids, aged parents, sick spouses, significant others or pets, we all know what it feels like to be pulled between our work commitments and those that need us most.

I didn't plan either of my pregnancies. Both were total surprises to me. Despite the surprises, I was very happy to have both of my children. No regrets. I remember seeing that blue dot on my pregnancy test and feeling sick. Sick from the hormones that were raging in my system and sick with worry about what the future would hold with a new little one coming into our home. But the sickness was combined with unadulterated joy. I rushed to tell my husband and my mother that I was pregnant. My friends were happy for me. But then I had to tell my employer.

As many women do, I waited until I was showing to tell my boss I was pregnant. I knew what had happened to other women in the office when they fessed up to being pregnant. They were ridiculed, demoted, treated like they had a terminal illness and denied good raises. I was on the fast track; I certainly did not want that to happen to me. It couldn't happen to me. Even though I rationalized my fears I still did not tell anyone until I absolutely had to.

As soon as my female colleagues found out I was expecting the pregnancy war stories started circulating again. "Do you know that you've just killed your career?" I was asked more than once. No, I didn't know that. "Did you know you won't get a decent raise after the baby is born?". Nope, I didn't know that either. I was dizzied by all the comments made about my reproductive status. I started feeling guilty about having the baby. Guilty. No woman should ever feel guilty about having a baby, or choosing not to have a baby.

Ten weeks into my first pregnancy I heard my daughter's heart beating. I got over my fear and my guilt. I got angry. The powers that be did not have the right to judge my work, or my professional career, because I had chosen to have a child. I started taking notes and listening carefully to what was being said about me, and other women who had chosen to reproduce, at the office. I realized the questions that had been repeatedly asked of me were asked for good reason. My female colleagues had rich histories that needed to be explored.